LIBRARY 

u»»vea»iTY  OF 

CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


OsL^rvv-t^4 


15837 

'aJL 


TO  ARMS ! 

SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR 


ATP"? 


TO  ARMS! 


SONGS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR 


BY 

ffiaura  E. 

OF  THE  VIGILANTES 

Author  of  "  Captain  January,"  "  Melody," 
'Queen  Hildegarde,"  "Five-Minute  Stories,"  etc. 


BOSTON 

THE  PAGE  COMPANY 
MDCCCCXVIII 


Copyright,  79/7 
BY  THE  PAGE  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 


First  Impression,  December,  1917 


THE    COLONIAL    PRESS 
C.  H.  SIMONDS  CO.,  BOSTON,  U.  S.  A. 


TO  MY  SON 


"  SOMEWHEEE  IN   FRANCE 


TO  MY  BROTHER  AND  SISTERS 

(On  hearing  the  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic  sung  by 
a  great  company.) 

Our  mother's  words,  the  country  through, 
By  young  and  old  are  sung  today; 

Like  stars,  they  light  the  war's  wild  night, 
Like  flowers,  they  strew  the  world's  dim,  way. 

And  thankful  hearts  her  children  lift, 
To  hear  her  trumpet  sounding  clear; 

Sweet-silver  as  the  silver  voice 

Which  now  our  ears  alone  may  hear. 

Oh!  may  the  land  slie  held  so  dear 
Grow  day  by  day  more  valiant-wise, 

Tune  to  her  note  its  bugle  clear, 

And  read  God's  glory  through  her  eye®. 

And,  dear  ones,  as  we  follow,  too, 
Along  the  path  she  leaves  so  bright, 

Some  bud  of  service  may  we  strew, 
Let  fall  some  spark  of  helpful  light! 

May  27,  1917. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 
GIVE  Us  A  CHANCE!       ....        1 

COME  TO  THE  COLORS  ....  4 
THE  TRANSPORTS  .  5 

THE  WOMAN'S  BURDEN  ...        7 

To  OUR  ALLIES  .....  9 
LIBERTY'S  DRUM  .  .  .  .  .11 

THE  LITTLE  BROWN  TENTS.  NUMBER  ONE  13 
THE  LITTLE  BROWN  TENTS.  NUMBER  Two  15 
Two  JOHNNIES  .  .  .  .  .17 

ROOKIE'S  SONG     .  .  .  .  .19 

MAKING  GOOD        .  .  .  .  .21 

YANKEE  DOODLE'S  DRUM         .  .  .25 

THE  TRENCHES    .  .27 

OUR  MOURNING    .  .  .  .  .30 

THE  WAR  MOTHER  ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE  .  32 
HELP!  .  .  .35 

THE  RED  CROSS  .  37 


"  Ride,  Vigilantes !   ride !  " 

EDITH  M.  THOMAS. 


TO  ARMS! 

SONGS   OF   THE   GREAT   WAR 


GIVE  US  A  CHANCE ! 

A  Song  for  Young  Jonathan. 
May,   1917. 

STEADFAST  and  strong  is  the  Tommy  of  Eng 
land, 

Gallant  and  gay  is  the  Poilu  of  France: 
We've  been  asleep,  but  thank  God,  we're  awake 

now ! 
Frenchmen  and  Englishmen,  give  us  a  chance! 

Give  us  a  chance!   we  stand  for  the  right,  too! 
Give  us  a  chance!    we  know  how  to  fight,  too! 
Brothers  of  England  and  comrades  of  France, 
Give  us  a  chance! 

None  of  our  women  have  perished  in  torture, 
Where  the   shells   scream   and   the  bayonets 
glance ; 


GIVE    US    A    CHANCE! 

None    of   our    children    have    Death    for   their 

nurture : 
Belgians  and  Serbians,  give  us  a  chance! 

Give  us  a  chance!   •we've  sweetliearts  and  wives, 

too! 

Give  us  a  chance!   for  the  little  ones'  lives,  too! 
Now,  as  we  rouse  from  security's  trance, 
Give  us  a  chance! 

Fair  stand  our  homes  in  their  spring-flushing 

meadows, 

Hands  all  around  for  the  daffodil-dance ! 
In  the  wrecked  lands  where  the  death-pall  o'er- 

shadows, 
Poles  and  Armenians,  give  us  a  chance! 

Give  us  a  chance!    our  strength  shall  uphold 
you! 

Give  us  a  chance!  our  love  shall  enfold  you! 

Stretch  out  your  faint  hands  to  gr&et  our  ad 
vance! 

Give  us  a  chance! 


2 


GIVE    US    A    CHANCE! 

Up  with  the  Flag,  then !    Too  long  has  it  slum 
bered, 

Furled  round  the  Past  in  its  dream  of  ro 
mance  ; 

Blaze  every  stripe,  every  bright  star  be  num 
bered  ! 
Freedom  and  Brotherhood,  give  us  a  chance! 

Give  us  a  chance!   we  stand  for  the  right,  too! 
Give  us  a  chance!    we're  in  for  the  fight,  too! 
Over,  and  over,  and  over  to  France! 
Give  us  a  chance! 


COME  TO  THE  COLORS! 

Air,  Russian  Hymn. 

SONS  of  America,  come  to  the  colors, 
Gather  in  arms  round  the  Red,  White  and  Blue ! 
Far  over  land  and  sea  a  bugle  note  is  ringing; 
Sons  of  America,  it  sounds  for  you ! 

Long  have  ye  stood  apart,   the   conflict  grim 

beholding, 

Safe  in  your  distance  and  calm  in  your  might; 
Now,  in  the  hour  of  need,  your  banner  proud 

unfolding, 
Sons  of  America,  uphold  the  right ! 

Kingdoms  may  pass  away  in  tumult  resounding, 
Thrones  and  dominions  may  crumble  and  fall ; 
Now,   while   Humanity   the   great    Advance   is 

sounding, 
Sons  of  America,  obey  the  call ! 


THE  TRANSPORTS 

OUT  into  the  night  they  slip, 
Silent  ship  by  silent  ship, 

Dim  and  gray,  dim  and  gray ; 
And  the  fog  droops  low  to  hide  them, 
And  the  wind  springs  swift  to  guide  them 

On  their  way,  on  their  way. 

Soft,  ah,  soft,  the  ripples  lisp, 
Break  the  bubbles,  silver-crisp, 

'Neath  the  bow,  'neath  the  bow ; 
Swirls  the  snowy  wake  behind  them ; 
So  we  lose  them ;  who  shall  find  them, 

Ask  not  now !     Ask  not  now ! 

What  the  freighting  that  they  bear? 
Gold  or  pearl  or  jewels  rare, 
Over  seas,  over  seas? 


THE    TRANSPORTS 

Yea !  the  Jewels  of  a  Nation ! 
Yea!    a  People's  consecration 
Goes  with  these,  goes  with  these ! 

Mother's  boy  and  maiden's  lover, 
Husband,  father,  —  over,  over, 

Tell  the  tale,  tell  the  tale ! 
Heart  of  gold  and  soul  of  fire, 
Lifted  eyes  of  high  desire, 

So  they  sail,  so  they  sail. 

Out  into  the  night  they  slip, 
Silent  ship  by  silent  ship, 

Dim  and  gray,  dim  and  gray. 
God's  own  angels  fly  beside  them, 
God's  own  good  and  grace  betide  them 

On  their  way,  on  their  way ! 


THE  WOMAN'S  BURDEN 

(On  being  asked,  "  What  is  Woman's  Part  in  the  World 

War?") 

RISE  up,  mother,  sister,  daughter, 
Tender  maiden,  faithful  wife ; 

Rise,  and  take  upon  your  shoulder 
Woman's  burden  in  the  Strife! 

Take  the  burden  of  a  smile, 

When  it  hurts  to  bring  it ; 

Take  the  burden  of  a  song, 

When  it  wounds  to  sing  it ! 
Smile  and  sing  and  cheer  them  on, 
Husband,  father,  brother,  son, 

To  the  starry  splendor 

Of  their  high  surrender. 

Roseleaf  girls,  the  summer's  blossoms, 
Stately  matrons,  jewel-bright, 


THE    WOMAN'S    BURDEN 

Labor's  strong  and  valiant  daughters, 
Hand  in  hand  to  join  the  Fight! 

Shed  no  tear  to  dim  the  steel 
That  must  gleam  so  brightly  ! 
Make  no  moan  to  check  the  breath 
That  must  come  so  lightly ! 
Smile  and  sing,  and  each  to  each 
Cheerful  tasks  and  holy  teach ; 
Others'  wounds  upbinding, 
So  your  own  balm  finding. 

Rise  up,  mother,  sister,  daughter, 
Tender  maiden,  faithful  wife  ; 

Rise  and  run  to  lift  and  bear  it, 
Woman's  burden  in  the  Strife ! 


TO  OUR  ALLIES 

HANDS  across  the  sea,  brothers ! 

Hands  across  the  sea ! 
Here's  a  flag  to  fly  with  yours, 

The  emblem  of  the  free. 
Holy  hands  of  freemen  gave  it, 
Heart  and  life  we  pledge  to  save  it, 
At  your  side  we  lift  and  wave  it, 

Now  for  Liberty ! 

Hands  across  the  sea,  brothers ! 

Hands  across  the  sea ! 
Here's  a  sword  to  draw  with  yours, 

'Gainst  monstrous  tyranny. 
Valiant  hearts  have  beat  beneath  it, 
Deathless  laurels  still  enwreathe  it, 
Sadly,  sternly,  we  unsheathe  it, 

Now  for  Liberty. 


TO    OUR    ALLIES 

Hands  around  the  world,  brothers ! 

Hands  around  the  world ! 
Fling  the  married  colors  out, 

Never  to  be  furled, 
Till  the  power  of  Light  prevailing, 
Vict'ry's  height  in  triumph  scaling, 
Sees  the  power  of  Darkness  failing, 

Down  in  ruin  hurled. 


10 


LIBERTY'S  DRUM 

MEN  of  America,  young  and  old, 
Stripling  and  graybeard,  blithe  and  bold, 

Now  come !    now  come ! 
The  clouds  above  us  darken,  darken, 
While  in  the  distance  —  harken,  harken ! 

The  roll  of  Liberty's  drum ! 
Hurrah ! 

The  roll  of  Liberty's  drum ! 

Prudence  now  and  pacifist  reason, 
Patience  now  with  fraud  and  treason 

Are  dumb,  are  dumb ! 
Hark!   do  you  hear  it?    Nearer,  nearer, 
Louder  ever  and  clearer,  clearer, 

The  roll  of  Liberty's  drum ! 
Hurrah ! 

The  roll  of  Liberty's  drum ! 

11 


LIBERTY'S    DRUM 

From  northern  pine,  from  southern  palm, 
From  eastern  storm,  from  western  calm, 

Now  come !  now  come ! 

From  peak  and  plain,  from  hill  and  hollow, 
Rise  now  and  follow,  follow,  follow, 

The  roll  of  Liberty's  drum ! 
Hurrah ! 

The  roll  of  Liberty's  drum ! 


THE  LITTLE  BROWN  TENTS 

Number  One. 
THE  little  brown  tents  are  standing  thick 

All  over  the  autumn  plain ; 
The  bugle  calls  are  sounding  quick, 
And  Tom  and  Jim  and  Harry  and  Dick 

Are  hurrying  out  amain. 

But  oh!  but  oh! 
Where  is  my  lad,  d'ye  know  ? 
It's  off  to  the  Camp  my  lad  was  sent ; 
He's  somewhere  there  in  a  little  brown  tent. 

The  little  brown  tents  are  neat  and  trim, 

With  fixtures  all  complete, 
There's  never  a  spot  that's  dull  or  dim, 
And  if  there  were,  there's  a  sergeant  grim 

On  hand  with  a  special  treat. 
But  oh !  but  oh ! 

Now  which  is  the  way  to  go? 


13 


THE    LITTLE    BROWN    TENTS 

It's  off  to  the  Camp  my  lad  was  sent ; 
He's  somewhere  there  in  a  little  brown  tent. 

The  little  brown  tents  hold  everything 

That  a  soldier  boy  needs,  d'ye  sec ! 

But  now  and  again  they  help  themselves 

To  other  folks'  things,  the  wanton  e  yes, 

And  that's  what  has  chanced  to  me. 

For  oh !  for  oh  ! 
It's  this  is  the  truth,  you  know : 
When  off  to  the  Camp  my  lad  was  sent, 
He  took  my  heart  to  his  little  brown  tent! 


THE  LITTLE  BROWN  TENTS 

Number  Two. 
OH,   what   have  you   got  in  your  little  brown 

tents, 

Yankee  Doodle,  Yankee  Doodle? 
Oh,  what  have  you  got  in  your  little  brown  tents, 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy,  oh? 

Oh,  I've  got  quite  a  lot  of  my  jolly  brown  boys, 
They're  feeling  rather  fit  and  they're  making 

quite  a  noise, 
And  I  think  that  Kaiser  Bill-i-am  it  very  much 

annoys. 
Yankee  Doodle  Dandy,  oh ! 

Oh,  what  are  they  doing  in  the  little  brown  tents, 

Yankee  Doodle,  Yankee  Doodle? 
Oh,  what  are  they  doing  in  the  little  brown  tents, 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy,  oh? 


15 


THE    LITTLE    BROWN    TENTS 

They  are  learning  how  to  shoot,  they  are  learn 
ing  how  to  fly, 

To  dig  very  deep  and  to  mount  very  high, 
And  I  think  that  Kaiser  Bill-i-am  will  learn  the 

reason  why, 
Yankee  Doodle  Dandy,  oh ! 

And  where  are  they  going  from  the  little  brown 

tents, 

Yankee  Doodle,  Yankee  Doodle? 
And  where  are  they  going  from  the  little  brown 

tents, 

Yankee  Doodle  Dandy,  oh? 
They  are  going  for  to  sail  o'er  the  wide,  rolling 

sea, 
And  in  the  field  of  France  they  will  fight  for 

liberty, 
And  I  think  that  Kaiser  Bill-i-am  —  oh,  well, 

we'll  wait  and  see  ! 
Yankee  Doodle  Dandy,  oh! 


16 


TWO    JOHNNIES 

YOUR  father's  name  was  Johnny  Reb, 

And  mine  was  Johnny  Yank  ; 
They  popped  at  each  other  with  might  and  main 

With  cartridges  far  from  blank. 
But  shoulder  to  shoulder  you  and  I 

Will  now  be  having  some  fun, 
For  Johnny  the  Yank  and  Johnny  the  Reb 

Are  going  to  fight  the  Hun, 
Hip!   hip! 

Are  going  to  fight  the  Hun, 
Hoo-ray ! 

Are  going  to  fight  the  Hun ! 

My  father  wore  a  coat  of  blue, 

And  yours  a  coat  of  gray ; 
And  little  they  thought  that  sons  of  theirs 

Would  be  dressing  alike  today. 
But  khaki  to  khaki  you  and  I 

Step  out  with  our  shouldered  gun, 


17 


TWO    JOHNNIES 

For  Johnny  the  Yank  and  Johnny  the  Reb 
Are  going  to  fight  the  Hun, 

Hip!   hip! 
Are  going  to  fight  the  Hun, 

Hoo-ray ! 
Are  going  to  fight  the  Hun ! 

There's  one  bright  flag  above  our  heads,  — 

Salute  it  with  a  cheer ! 
There's  one  firm  purpose  in  our  hearts, 

Fair  Freedom's  way  to  clear. 
Then  over  the  sea,  and  over  the  sea, 

And  back  when  the  war  is  done, 
For  Johnny  the  Yank  and  Johnny  the  Reb 
Are  going  to  fight  the  Hun, 

Hip!   hip! 
Are  going  to  fight  the  Hun, 

Hoo-ray ! 
Are  going  to  fight  the  Hun! 

So  long ! 
Are  going  to  fight  the  Hun! 


18 


ROOKIE'S    SONG 

Air,  "Everybody  Works  but  Father." 
EVERYBODY'S   wearing   khaki ! 
Nothing  else  the  style : 
Sets  the  old  folks  cheering, 
Makes  the  young  folks  smile : 
When  they  see  us  coming, 
All  the  children  run; 
Everybody's  wearing  khaki 
Except  —  the  —  Hun ! 

The  gray  old  badger! 

Look  across  the  water ! 
Same  thing  over  there: 
Khaki  moles  in  the  trenches, 
Khaki  birds  in  the  air. 
E'en  the  smoke-clouds  rolling 
Dusky  'gainst  the  sun: 

19 


THE    ROOKIE'S    SONG 

Everybody's  wearing  khaki 
Except  —  the  —  Hun ! 

The  gray  old  buzzard ! 

Good-by  now,  my  sweetheart! 
So  long,  Uncle  S. ! 
Me  for  the  War's  duration, 
Never  a  second  less: 
When  we're  homeward   steering, 
After  the  fight  is  done, 
Everybody  will  be  cheering, 
Except  —  the  —  Hun  ! 
The  gray  old  rascal ! 


MAKING  GOOD 

A  BIRTHDAY  MEDITATION  OF  WILLIAM  JONES, 
CARPENTER 

SOME  years  ago,  this  very  day, 

Two  little  kids  were  born : 
One  in  the  royal  purple, 

One  in  a  blanket  worn. 
One  with  a  golden  spoon,  like, 

One  with  a  spoon  of  wood : 
But  both  of  'em  sent  with  the  same  intent: 

"  My  son,  make  good !  " 

For  the  one  good  God 
From  the  one  good  sod 

He  made  us,  flesh  and  bones: 
You,  William  Hohenzollern, 

And  me,  Bill  Jones. 

I've  had  a  pretty  tough  time, 
And  little  else  beside: 


MAKING    GOOD 

It  surely  was  a  rough  time 

When  wife  and  baby  died. 
But  still  I  held  my  end  up: 

I  always  understood 
The  thing  to  do,  for  me  and  you, 

Was  just  —  make  good! 

But  even  at  the  hardest, 

I've  loved  the  light  o'  day: 
I've  loved  to  see  a  child's  face, 

I've  loved  to  earn  my  pay. 
I've  never  lied  nor  cheated: 

I  always  understood 
That  warn't  the  style  to  go  a  mile 

Towards  makin'  good. 

And  while  I've  scratched  and  sweated 
To  earn  my  crust  of  bread, 

You've  sat  upon  a  throne,  like, 
A  crown  upon  your  head. 

And  judgin'  from  your  picture, 
I've  always  understood 


MAKING    GOOD 

That  certain  true  you  thought  that  you 
Had  made  darned  good ! 

I  often  think  of  you,  sir, 

And  wonder  how  'twould  feel 
To  set  a  hull  great  Nation 

A-writhin'  'neath  my  heel. 
I  never  trompled  on  a  worm : 

I  vum,  I  never  could! 
'Twarn't  my  idee  that  that,  d'ye  see, 

Would  just  —  make  good. 

I  often  think  of  you,  sir, 

And  wonder  how  'twould  seem 
If  little  ghosts  of  murdered  kids 

Should  haunt  my  every  dream. 
My  baby  died  upon  my  arm  — 

I  done  the  best  I  could  — 
He  kep'  a-smilin'  to  the  last  — 

God !    he  made  good ! 

We're  gettin'  on  in  years,  like: 
Rheumatic?     So  be  I! 


MAKING    GOOD 

The  day  will  come,  my  birthday  mate, 
When  you  and  me  must  die. 

Somehow  I  can't  but  wonder, 
For  all  your  Kaiserhood, 

Which  of  the  two,  of  me  and  you, 
Will  make  most  good, 

When  the  one  good  God 
To  the  one  good  sod 

Gives  back  our  flesh  and  bones, 
Yours,  William  Hohenzollern, 

And  mine,  Bill  Jones! 


YANKEE  DOODLE'S  DRUM 

A  Song  of  Enlistment. 
VIRGINIA  rocked  our  cradle, 

New  England  was  our  nurse; 
We   cut  our  teeth  upon   Plymouth  Rock, 

And  never  a  whit  the  worse. 

We're  marching,  marching, 

To  Yankee  Doodle's  drum. 
From  Maine  to  Ohio, 
It's  up  and  be  spry,  oh, 

And  come !    come !    come ! 

It's  down  from  the  shaggy  mountain, 
It's  up  from  the  golden  plain: 

From  blue  Atlantic  surges, 
From  far  Pacific  main ; 


YANKEE    DOODLE'S    DRUM 

We're  marching,  marching, 
To  Yankee  Doodle's  drum. 

Manhattan  to  Frisco, 

It's  up  and  be  brisk,  oh ! 
And  come!    come!    come! 

We  came  across  in  a  cockboat, 

To  Massachusetts  Bay, 
But  we'll  go  back  in  a  fleet,  boys, 

While  Liberty  leads  the  way ! 

We're  marching,  marching, 
To  Yankee  Doodle's  drum. 

From  ocean  to  ocean, 

Get  on  to  the  notion, 

And  come!    come!    come! 


THE  TRENCHES 

(December,  1916.) 

IT'S  cold,  it's  cold  in  the  trenches, 

And  the  snow  falls  white  and  drear : 
It's  bitter  cold  in  the  trenches 

At  this  time  o'  the  year. 
Like  iron  chill  is  the  brown  earth  wall, 
The  snowflakes   sting  as   they  freeze  and  fall, 
And  the  shells  go  screeching  over  all, 
A  dismal  sound  to  hear. 

My  boy  will  sleep  in  his  bed  tonight, 

A  pillow  under  his  head ; 
My  boy,  God  bless  him,  will  sleep  tonight 

With  never  a  thought  of  dread.* 

*  This  is  no  longer  true.     He  is  now  in  France  with  hia 
mates. 


THE    TRENCHES 

But  what  of  the  boys  who  crouch  and  peer, 
With  little  to  hope  and  all  to  fear, 
And  hark  for  the  quick  hiss  on  the  ear, 
And  the  sharp  sting  of  the  lead ! 

Oh,  yes,  there  are  beds  in  the  trenches, 

When  one's  turn  comes  to  sleep ; 
There  are  dripping  cots  in  the  trenches 

Where  a  weary  lad  may  creep. 
But  many  a  one  will  drop  where  he  stood 
Ankle  deep  in  the  freezing  mud, 
And  the  pool  at  his  head  may  be  rain  or  blood 

No  care  will  he  keep. 

And  there's  plenty  to  eat  in  the  trenches ; 

The  bread  will  be  soaked,  maybe : 
And  there's  something  queer  got  into  the  soup. 

And  a  good  deal  of  smoke  in  the  tea: 
But  so  long  as  it's  hot,  and  something  to  drink. 
It's  all  "  to  the  merry,"  they  seem  to  think, 
And  down  it  goes  with  a  nod  and  a  wink, 

"  Not  half  bad,  d'ye  see?  " 


THE    TRENCHES 

For,  oh,  they're  so  gay  in  the  trenches ! 

Wherever  you  bend  to  hear, 
The  British  laugh  and  the  light  French  chaff 

Fall  merrily  on  the  ear. 
With  pain  for  their  mate  and  death  for  their 

neighbor, 

By  day  and  by  night  they  laugh  and  labor, 
And  blade  and  rifle  are  pipe  and  tabor 

To  these  lads  here. 

But  it's  cold,  it's  cold  in  the  trenches 

At  this  time  o'  the  year : 
It's  bitter  cold  in  the  trenches, 

And  Christmas  is  drawing  near. 
Oh,  think  of  the  gallant  boys  who  fight, 
For   their   country's    life   and   their   country's 

right, 
And  give  them  a  spark  of  your  Christmas  light, 

A  touch  of  your  Christmas  cheer ! 


OUR    MOURNING 

("  A  band  of  purple  on  the  arm.") 

AND  if  your  glorious  boy  must  fall, 

His  face  to  the  foe, 
Mother,  O  Mother,  never  shroud 

Your  form  in  weeds  of  woe ! 
Oh,  never  dim  the  daylight, 

Nor  let  the  watchers  say, 
"  Columbia's  women  mourn  their  dead 

In  hopelessness  today !  " 

But  bind  around  your  arm 

For  all  the  world  to  see, 
The  purple,  the  purple 

Of  goodly  Victory ! 

The  boy  went  singing  forth, 

His  head  held  high: 
The  smile  of  him  was  like  a  torch 

I'  th'  hand  of  Liberty. 


OUR   MOURNING 

The  song  of  him  was  like  a  bird 

That  wakes  the  morn  : 
Sister,  O  Sister,  sing  you  too, 

Howe'er  your  heart  be  torn ! 

And  bind  upon  your  arm, 

For  all  the  world  to  see, 
The  purple,  the  purple 

Of  radiant  Victory! 

Spring  is  the  time  of  flowers, 

Of  joy,  of  birth, 
With  mothers  singing  o'er  their  babes 

Through  all  the  dreaming  earth: 
But  oh!  the  flower  of  grief 

It  blooms  in  winter  fair : 
Once  it  was  white,  but  now  it  shines 

In  purple  rare. 

Then  bind  we  round  our  arms 

For  all  the  world  to  see, 
The  purple,  the  purple 

Of  royal  Victory ! 


31 


THE  WAR  MOTHER  ON  CHRISTMAS 
EVE 

BABY  Jesus  slept  in  a  manger,  — 

Yes !   but  it  was  warm ! 
Homely  rafters,  cobweb-clouded, 

Sheltered  it  from  harm. 
Mary  Mother  brooded  o'er  him ; 

Who  so  glad  as  she? 
Bowed  her  head  and  prayed  before  him, 

Proud  as  proud  could  be. 

Baby  Jesus  heard  the  angels 

Singing  in  a  row ; 
Hand  in  hand  about  the  stable 

Curtsying  full  low. 
Mary  Mother  joyed  to  hear  them, 

Spoke  them  sweet  and  low ; 
Clapped  her  hands  and  laughed  to  cheer  them 

With  her  lovely  show. 


THE  WAR  MOTHER  ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE 

Ah,  my  son !  no  friendly  hovel 

Spreads  o'er  you  its  roof. 
Ah,  my  son !   no  golden  angels 

Sing  for  your  behoof. 
But  my  thoughts  go  questing,  flying, 

To  the  corner  where 
You  this  Christmas  Eve  are  lying, 

Find  and  greet  you  there. 

Could  the  little  thoughts  but  warm  you, 

O  my  soldier  boy, 
How  I'd  tuck  them  in  around  you, 

Laughing  low  for  joy! 
Low,  ah !    low !    I  must  not  wake  you ; 

Just  a  whisper,  dear ! 
"  Merry  Christmas  !  "     "  Merry  Christmas ! " 

In  your  dreaming  ear. 

Could  the  little  thoughts  but  warm  you ! 

Now  comes  on  the  Day ; 
So  I  fold  them  close  about  you, 

Softly  steal  away. 


THE  WAR  MOTHER  ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE 

Ah!    he  turns  upon  his  pallet. 

Ah !  he's  smiling,  see ! 
So  shall  it  be  Merry  Christmas 

Also  here  for  me. 


HELP1 

YE  who  sleep  peacefully 

In  quiet  homes, 
Where  no  disaster  broods, 

No  terror  comes, 
Against  the  hour  of  doom, 

The  day  of  loss, 
Now  in  this  Christmastide, 

Help  the  Red  Cross ! 

Ye  who  tread  j  oyously 

Through  flowery  ways, 
Laughter  and  song  to  fill 

The  long  bright  days, 
For  those  on  beds  of  pain 

Who  moan  and  toss, 
Now  in  this  Christmastide, 

Help  the  Red  Cross ! 

35 


HELP! 

Beggar  and  priest  and  king, 

For  all  alike 
In  the  appointed  hour 

God's  clock  doth  strike. 
Round  the  world,  o'er  the  sea, 

Join  hands  across ! 
Now,  when   Christ  comes   to  ye, 

Help  the  Red  Cross ! 


36 


THE    RED    CROSS 

O  CROSS  of  Christ,  red  gleaming, 
Where  blood  and  tears  are  streaming, 
Where  the  wild  shells  are  crashing, 
Where  the  bright  swords  are  flashing, 
What  means  thy  dreadful  splendor? 
Death's  triumph,  Life's  surrender, 
O  Cross  of  Christ? 

O  Cross  of  Christ,  high  lifting, 
Where  battle-clouds  are  drifting, 
Where  the  red  field  a-welter, 
No  succor  yields  nor  shelter, 
What  sign  for  those  who,  stricken, 
Gaze  where  thy  flame  doth  quicken, 
O  Cross  of  Christ? 

O  Cross  of  Christ,  low  bending 
Where  anxious  care  is  tending, 


37 


THE    RED    CROSS 

Here  in  the  trenches  groaning, 
Here  on  the  pallet  moaning, 
These  bleeding,  broken,  dying, 
What  answer  to  our  crying, 
O  Cross  of  Christ? 

O  Cross  of  Christ,  thy  shining 
Rebukes  our  vain  repining. 
'Tis  love  doth  bear  thee  onward, 
'Tis  pity  lifts  thee  sunward, 
Read  we  aright  thy  splendor, 
Life's  triumph,  Death's  surrender, 
O  Cross  of  Christ! 


THE    END. 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


UJI       ffl 


APR  1  ! 

SRLF 
2  WEEK  LOAN 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000677125     7 


